


Strike!

by Lmv16



Series: Albert/Skye Canon Story [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, My OC - Freeform, my first newsies fic!, skye is Kloppman's granddaughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lmv16/pseuds/Lmv16
Summary: Being Mr. Kloppman's granddaughter couldn't keep Skye away from the strike. And it certainly couldn't keep her from falling in love.





	Strike!

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Newsies story. Posted to FFN and Tumblr, as well!

Elise was there first. Only six years old when she arrived, Elise was actually the granddaughter of Mr. Kloppman, the man who ran the newsboy’s lodging house in Manhattan. Her father dropped her off there after her mother died, claiming that he would be back for her in just a couple of days. He never came back. Mr. Kloppman lost his daughter that day, but he gained the love of his granddaughter.

Running the newsboy’s lodging house wasn’t as easy as it sounded. He had to make sure that each boy paid their rent, although he was known to let some of the boys off a little if the headlines were particularly bad. As important as having a roof over their heads was, it was more important for them to eat. As long as they were able to eventually pay him back, Mr. Kloppman had no issues putting off a payment for a few days.

The first person to arrive after Elise was a boy named Jack Kelly. He was a year older than her, and would be directly responsible for bringing in Crutchie, Race, Albert, and Specs. Crutchie was a boy the same age as Jack who got his nickname for the crutch he had to use in order to get around. Polio had taken the use of one of his legs when he was five, and he had never been able to put his weight on it again. Andrew Morris became Crutchie, and Crutchie became a newsy.

Specs was a darker skinned boy who was named for the glasses that he always wore. Although not the correct glasses, Specs still wore his stolen glasses with pride, for even though they didn’t make his vision much better, he was at least able to distinguish who was who. Without the glasses, everything just became one big blur.

The day Jack brought one Anthony Higgins home was the day that Elise found her best friend. He was a half-Italian boy who fluently spoke the language of his mother, but his bright blue eyes and blond curls betrayed the Irish side of his father. Anthony became Racetrack when it became apparent that he loved the Sheepshead races, a horse-racing track. He gambled quite a lot there, and lost more than he won, but Race still loved the racetracks, and, even though Sheepshead was in Brooklyn, it had become his normal selling spot.

Lastly was Albert. Albert DaSilva was the last one Jack brought in. He was ten years old, running from a father who abused him, covered in bruises and blood. Elise had felt sorry for this boy when he came in. Crutchie, Race, and Specs had all been hungry, yeah, but relatively healthy when they came in. Albert was the worst any of them ever saw; so skinny that they could see every one of his bones, so bruised up that they couldn’t tell his natural skin color, and so dirty that they didn’t realize that his hair was reddish-brown until he was finally able to get all the blood out of it.

Albert slowly healed, and became best friends with Race and Elise. It was Albert who gave Elise the nickname of Skye, because her eyes were the same shade as the sky. No one really knew why they decided to add the ‘e’ at the end, though.

Skye and Albert, they eventually found out, actually shared their birthday. They found out the next year, when Crutchie wanted to plan a small party for Skye’s birthday. Upon asking what day it was, Crutchie had told Albert that it was February 14th, Valentine’s Day. Albert had blinked, and Crutchie tipped his head to the side.

“Why you look so surprised, Albert?” he asked.

“14th’s my birthday, too,” Albert admitted. He wasn’t initially going to say anything about it, but as soon as it was found that they shared a birthday, the always shared a party, as well. They both loved it.

Years passed and boys came and went from the lodging house. At fifteen years old, Jack became the new leader, and everyone loved it. Blue and Moss had both been good leaders. Blue was leader up until Albert showed up, leaving to find a real job just two months later. Moss took over then, and was leader for five whole years, his baby face allowing him to sell papers until the age of 20. But when he finally left, Jack took over, with Race as his second.

At the same time, Brooklyn was taken over by a spry fifteen-year-old named Spot Conlon. No one really knew how one became leader in Brooklyn, as it was the biggest borough, with over a hundred newsies. Jack had just over thirty to watch out for, but Spot had over a hundred. How he gained the loyalty of all of them, Skye would never know, but he ended up being a good leader, if a slightly feared one. He wasn’t afraid to soak anyone who crossed him, and he was fiercely protective over his newsies. He was on the shorter side, but had plenty of muscle to make up for his shortness, seeing as he was only four or so inches taller than Skye herself.

Skye eventually began to sell ‘papes’ herself. Part of Kloppman’s job was making sure that he had enough soap, blankets, and clothes for everyone. However, the state of New York didn’t like to give the lodging houses a whole lot of funding. So, Skye began selling as well, with all of her money earned going towards buying supplies for the lodging house. Kloppman didn’t like it very much, but he didn’t stop his granddaughter from selling, and often used some of the money she earned to buy her a gift, usually fabric so she could make a dress, or ingredients so she could bake treats for the boys. Skye loved baking, and the boys always knew when she was baking once the lodging house began to smell like freshly baked bread. Everything was mostly going okay.

The crushes started when they were twelve. Somehow, Race managed to get a few of the guys- and Skye- into a game of Truth or Dare. Normally the boys all chose dare, and the dares were usually something stupid, like to try and sneak a piece of clothing from one of the other guys. Today, Albert sat next to Skye, and Specs, who had just completed his own dare, turned towards them.

“Albert, truth or dare?” he asked.

“Dare,” Albert answered simply. Specs grinned.

“I dare you to kiss Skye.”

Albert glanced at Skye next to him, who’s face had flushed red. With a glance back at Specs and a roll of his eyes, Albert pressed his lips to Skye’s cheek, lingering for a few moments before pulling away.

“Happy?” the red-head asked, removing his cap for a moment to run his hand through his hair.

“That does not count as a kiss!” Race complained, “He meant a kiss on tha lips!”

“He didn’t specify!” Albert argued.

Race rolled his blue eyes, but dropped the matter. A few rounds later, and after Skye chose truth twice, Race asked her the fateful question.

“Skye, truth or dare?”

Having mostly forgotten about the kiss Albert gave her, seeing as she routinely received and gave out kisses on cheeks, Skye answered, “Dare.”

Race grinned. “I dare ya to kiss Albert on the lips, for at least 10 seconds.”

Skye immediately flushed red, as did Albert, nearly the same shade as his hair. Their eyes met, and Skye looked away, her blush darkening.

“I’m not doing that,” she said.

“Ya have ta, I dared ya,” Race said smugly.

Skye sighed and looked at Albert. He had finally hit his growth spirt, and, even sitting next to her, was still taller.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Albert said nervously.

“No, I’ll do it,” Skye said. Just wanting to get it over with, Skye leaned up and pressed her lips to Albert’s in a sweet kiss. She counted in her head to ten, and then pulled away, opening her eyes. Albert seemed to be shocked that she had actually gone through with it, but he cleared his throat, and tried to calm his racing heart.

“Ya happy, Race?” she asked the blonde.

“Very,” Race grinned.

Skye rolled her eyes and nudged Albert with her shoulder. “Albert, truth or dare?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh, dare,” Albert answered, and so continued their game. Neither of their faces returned to normal for the rest of the game. They would both have crushes on the other for years, until they were 16.

And then the trolley worker strike started. These men started a union, and were striking for safety on the job, as well as better pay. The newsies actually got a couple good selling days when the strike first started, but it became old news very fast. Skye ended up being the first one to see it.

About a week into the strike, Skye was headed to Albert’s spot, all of her papers sold, and her stomach rumbling. As she walked, keeping her head down as to not attract attention to herself, she ended up pushing through a crowd of large, loud men. Of course, at only five foot one, it wasn’t hard to appear larger than her. Even Spot Conlon had a couple of inches on her.

She was just pushing her way out of the crowd when she heard a sound that no newsy wanted to hear; police whistles. Skye tried to run, only to catch a wayward punch to the side of her face. She fell, and felt the glass that sunk into her arm seconds later. Ignoring the pain in her face and arm, Sky got up, pushed her way through the crowd of strikers and police officers, and ran. When she finally caught sight of Albert, she let out a sigh of relief.

Albert’s back was turned to her, but she recognized the scar on the back of his arm, curtesy of his father. She could also see tuffs of red-brown hair under his backwards newsboy cap, and there was one last paper in his hand, the bag slung across his chest empty. Albert sold his last paper, and turned, ready to find Skye and get some food, only to see her running towards him. He smiled, but immediately dropped that smile when he saw her.

A bruise was forming along one side of her face, going from her jaw all the way up to her forehead, far enough from her eye that she didn’t have a black eye, and it spread out over her cheek. It was ugly, and took away from the pretty features of her face. Her arm was covered in blood, as was the palm of her other hand, from trying to stop the bleeding.

“Skye! What happened?! Who did this?!” Albert demanded. He grabbed her chin gently, turning her face to the side so he could see the bruising better. “Was it da DeLancey’s?”

“No,” Skye answered, backing out of Albert’s grip so that she could sit down for a moment, breathing heavily. “Found the trolley strike, tried to get through it, and the bulls arrived. Got caught up in it,” she explained, taking the offered piece of cloth Albert offered, ripped off the bottom of his too-big shirt.

“And your arm?”

Skye took a moment to wrap her arm in the fabric. It immediately got darker, soaking in blood, and when she was done, she looked back up. “Fell on some glass.”

Albert’s frown darkened, if possible. “Come on, let’s get ya back to the lodging house. Ya grandfatha’s gonna kill me if I don’t,” he said.

Skye nodded, taking his offered hand, and allowed him to pull her up. Kloppman was understandably upset when they arrived, his granddaughter bloody and bruised, but he took care of her, stitching up her arm, and rubbing some kind of saline over the bruise on her face. It went from her jaw all the way up to her forehead, in a long crescent shape. Once he was done, he allowed Albert to take her to Jacobi’s for dinner, under the promise that he would bring her right back when they were done, and not hang around.

When Jack found out what happened, he was furious. Once everyone was gathered at Jacobi’s, the Manhattan leader decided that no one was to travel alone. Even Race had to have someone accompany him to the Brooklyn bridge, since his selling spot, the Sheepshead races, were in Brooklyn. No one was allowed to follow him over, but as long as he was on Manhattan grounds, Race wasn’t to be alone. Everyone was also to avoid the trolley strike; he didn’t want what happened to Skye to happen to anyone else. His newsies were too important to him to let them get injured like that. Everyone agreed, although some were reluctant, since the trolley strike sometimes had some good action happening that was fun to watch.

One day, Skye was woken by Jack’s voice, yelling down from his penthouse. Really, the Manhattan leader had brought a blanket and some pillows up to the roof of the building, so he could “see the stars”.

“Skye, Racer, Elmer, Albert, Specs, Henry, you heard the bell! Them papes won’t sell themselves!”

With a groan, Skye raised her head a little bit. She had given up her bedroom a few years ago for the younger boys, and now roomed with Albert, Race, and Specs. Mr. Kloppman tried to keep it to four to a room, since that was one thing that the lodging house DID have; space. Race, Albert, and Specs were all slowly raising out of bed, and Skye let her head hit the pillow again before slowly pushing herself up. She wore clothes that were way too big for her to bed, usually clothes that belonged to one of the guys. Hell, the clothes she wore to sell were Albert’s old ones, that he outgrew. Albert personally thought that she looked better in them than he ever did.

“Hey Albert, Skye, Specs, you heard Jack!” that was Race; as second in command, it was his job to make sure that everyone did as Jack told them, which usually included morning duty. After making sure his three roommates were up and getting dressed- Skye with her back to him- he moved on to other rooms. “Get a move on!”

Albert yawned as he joined Race. “I was having the most beautiful dream; my lips are still tingling!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, a pretty girl?” Race joked, knowing all about Albert’s little crush on Skye.

Yes, Albert thought, but, instead, he said, “A leg of lamb.” Race didn’t really need to know that Albert had dreamt of Skye; of holding her, of being with her, of kissing her.

Race clearly didn’t believe him, though, and Albert flushed red.

“Ya _were_. Ya were dreamin’ about _Skye_!” Race exclaimed.

“Ssshhh!” Albert shushed him, “Do ya want her ta know?!”

“Yes, actually,” Race said with a grin.

“Shut up!”

Skye joined them, then, covering up a yawn with her hand. “Mornin’, boys,” she said.

“Good morning, Skye,” Race said, a knowing smile turning his lips upwards.

Skye raised an eyebrow at her best friend, and shook her head. “Not even going to ask,” she said before turning to Albert, “Ready to go?”

Albert smiled, “Yep!” The two of them always walked to the distribution center together, and were soon joined by the others, Jack and Crutchie among them. Crutchie often slept up in the penthouse with Jack; after losing his leg to Polio and being stuck in a house for months on end, he tried to get as much fresh air as humanly possible. They stopped almost as soon as they left the lodging house, because a girl walked by on the arm of some guy, and Romeo decided to flirt with her. Jack quickly pushed Romeo away to try flirting himself, only to get shot down.

“Oh, you struck out!” Romeo mocked.

“I’m crushed!” and with that, they were on their way.

They stopped halfway there, meeting the nuns who gave out coffee and bits of bread. They were always singing about how they would all be saved, and just wanted to help. Didn’t stop at least one of them from eyeing Skye’s clothes a little wearily every single day, though. She didn’t bother hiding that she was a girl, but she also never wore dresses to sell in. Honestly, Skye hadn’t worn a dress in at least a year.

As they waited for the headline, they sat around and talked, as if they hadn’t just seen each other the day before. Jack, Crutchie, Skye, Albert, Race, and Specs all sat together, talking and catching up.

“So who wants to bet that it’s about the trolley strike, again?” Skye asked, looking around at her boys. Her arm was still wrapped up in gauze to protect the healing gashes, but the crescent shaped bruise on her face was almost completely faded.

“Nah, it’ll be somethin’ better than that trolley strike,” Race argued, always the gambler.

“50 cents?” Skye asked, two quarters in her palm and her eyebrow raised.

Race grinned, “50 cents,” he agreed, spitting in his hand to shake hers. She did the same.

“Hey, what’s the hold up?!” another boy, Finch, called. “Waitin’ makes me antsy!”

“It’ll be any second now,” Jack said, gesturing with his hand, “Look, there goes the guy who writes it every morning.” Sure enough the man who wrote the headline on the board every morning was climbing up the ladder, chalk in hand.

“I hope it’s real bloody with a nice, clear picture!” Specs exclaimed, and was met with a resounding “yeah!”

They waited with bated breath as the man wrote the headline, only to all sigh.

Trolley Strike Enters 3rd Week

“Awe, not again!”

“They’re killing us with that snoozer!”

“Three weeks with the same story!”

Skye held her hand out with a grin, and Race slapped two quarters into her palm with a grumble.

They waited at the gates, waiting to be let into the distribution center. Two guys came up to the gates, one a little older than the other.

“My, my, what an unpleasant aroma; I fear the sewers may have backed up in the night,” Race said with a grin.

“Or could it be...” Crutchie continued. Everyone else finished the thought with,

“The DeLancey brothers!”

The two boys in question rolled their eyes. Oscar, the more volatile of the brothers, stood on the left of the gate, while Morris who was a little quieter, stood to the right. Both of the brothers did anything and everything to make the lives of the Newsies hell. Especially the lives of Crutchie and Skye. Crutchie because of his leg, and Skye because she was a girl. Everyone else would quickly come to their defense.

Morris grinned upon seeing Skye, between Albert and Race as they came through the gate.

“Well aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes, Skye,” he said. Despite being a newsy, Morris had a soft spot for the only girl newsy.

Skye rolled her eyes, firing off a single, “Leave me alone, Morris,” before anyone else could even think of a response to the statement. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, I could very easily get you into it,” Oscar said, a flirtatious tone to his voice that Crutchie didn’t really appreciate. As protective as Race and Albert could be for her, Crutchie was even worse. Because he was crippled, he faced a lot of the same discrimination as Skye did. Because of this, he was often the one to get the maddest when comments like that were aimed at her.

“Hey, she said to leave her alone!” he exclaimed.

“You lousy crip!” Oscar said in anger, before stealing the crutch and using it to push him over.

“Hey, that ain’t nice, Oscar!” Jack exclaimed, stepping up and yanking the crutch out of Oscar’s grip.

“Yeah, five to one, Jack stomps ‘em!” Race said, mostly hoping that Jack would soak the DeLancey brothers. Jack held up a hand, silencing his second in command.

“Hey, ya know, one day you might find yourself with a gammy of ya own. How’d ya like us pickin’ on you?” Jack asked, putting the crutch under his arm as Albert helped Crutchie up, keeping his grip on the blonde’s arm to keep him standing. “Hey, maybe we should find out!” with that, Jack hit both brothers on the leg with the crutch, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

“I’ll soak ya!” Oscar threatened, lunging forward.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Jack took off running with a hoot, crutch in hand, the DeLancey brothers following. Albert scooped Crutchie up without a second thought, following the other as they ran into the distribution center.

With a roll of her sky blue eyes, Skye followed her boys, sitting down next to Crutchie as Albert set him down.

“You okay?” Skye asked, turning to Crutchie as Albert sat on her other side.

“I’m fine,” the adorable blonde said, “you?”

Skye laughed. “I’m not the one who got shoved over.”

Crutchie shrugged. “Awe, I’m used ta it,” he said.

Finally, Jack came back, and graciously handed Crutchie his crutch back.

“Papes fa tha Newsies!”

That was Wiesel. He was Oscar and Morris’s uncle, and the man who sold the newsies their papers.

“Weasel!” Jack exclaimed, going straight to the front of the line as everyone lined up behind him. “Didja miss me?”

“The name’s Wiesel!” Wiesel said.

“Ain’t that what I said?” Skye could hear the grin in his voice from where she stood. Usually between Crutchie and Albert, a new kid had gotten in line right behind her. “I’ll take my usual.”

“100 papes for the wise guy; next!”

“Good morning, Weasel!” Race exclaimed, coming up to the man with a grin.

“At least call me mister!”

“I’ll call ya sweetheart if ya spot me fifty papes, huh?” Race bargained, sticking his cigar into his mouth with a grin.

“Drop the cash, and move it along!” Wiesel snapped.

“Oh, well whatever happened ta romance?” Race joked, slapping his money onto the counter.

“Good morning, Mr. Wiesel,” Crutchie said, ever the polite one.

“Haha, 50 papes for Crutchie,” Wiesel said, grinning at the blonde before turning his attention to Skye.

“Morning, Mr. Wiesel,” she said sweetly, dropping one of her hard-won quarters onto the counter.

“50 papes for Miss Elise,” Wiesel said. For whatever reason, Wiesel refused to call her Skye, only using her given name. Claimed that her real name was much prettier, and would call her nothing else.

Oscar handed her, her papers with a smirk, and Skye snatched them from his hand with a glair. Going to sit next to Jack, Skye gave her papers a quick count to make sure she had all 50, and then opened one to try and find a suitable story. She was distracted only seconds into the activity.

“I’m new, too!”

“Don’t worry, kid, it rubs right off,” Race said.

“I’ll take 20 newspapers, please,” another unfamiliar voice said. Looking up from her paper, Skye saw not one, but two new kids. One was older, probably Jack’s age, and the other was maybe nine or ten. They were clearly related, and dressed in clothes much nicer than what the others were wearing. Skye glanced down at herself almost a little self-consciously. The shirt she wore used to be Albert’s, and the pants used to belong to Race. Much easier to sell in, but definitely not lady-like.

“20 for the new kid,” Wiesel said, before looking back at him. “And where’s the dime?”

“I’ll pay you when I sell them,” the new kid said.

The rest of the newsies scoffed. Like that would ever happen.

“Funny; cash up front.”

“But whatever I don’t sell, you buy back, right?”

Skye couldn’t help herself. “The day Pulitzer buys back what we don’t sell is the day that pigs start flying through the city.”

“C’mon,” Wiesel said, annoyed. “Drop the cash and move it along!”

With a resigned sigh, the new kid dropped a dime onto the counter and moved to collect his papers.

“Albert! Lemme see your money!”

Albert grinned and stepped up to the counter. “You have a very interesting face; ever think about getting into the moving pictures?” Skye rolled her eyes; as if they’d let Wiesel star in a big moving picture.

“You really think I could?” Wiesel grinned, excited at the idea.

“Surah; buy a ticket, they let anyone in!” Everyone laughed, and when Albert met Skye’s eye, he winked. She grinned at him. Just as he grabbed his stack of papers and sat on her other side, the new kid spoke up again.

“Um, excuse me? I paid for 20, but you gave me 19.”

Silence.

“See how nice I was to this new kid? And what do I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations.” Wiesel was clearly very annoyed with this kid, and Jack snatched the papers from his hand, counting them himself.

“I just want what I paid for,” the new kid said.

“He said, beat it!” Oscar exclaimed.

“Woah, the new kid’s right, Weasel; ya gave him 19. I’m sure it’s an honest mistake, on account of Oscar here can’t count ta 20 with his shoes on,” Jack said. Oscar lunged at him and Jack dodged with a grin, handing the kid his papers back as Morris handed him one more. “Hey, fifty papes for the new kid!” Jack slammed another quarter onto the counter and Morris quickly counted them out.

“I don’t want more papes!”

“What kind of newsy don’t want more papes?”

The new kid looked annoyed, if a little shy. “I’m no charity case. And I don’t even know you.”

The younger new kid spoke up, then, a firey little kid with a different kind of hat on than everyone else. A fedora, maybe?

“His name’s Jack!”

“This here is the famous Jack Kelly!” Crutchie pitched in, “He once escaped from the Refuge on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage; made all the papes!”

 

Jack grinned, and turned to the little kid. “Hey, how old are you, kid?”

“I’m ten!” he said, proudly. “Almost.”

“Well if anyone asks, you’re seven; younger sells more papes, and we’re gonna be partners-“ Jack was suddenly cut off by the older of the two.

“Who said we want to partner?”

“Sellin’ with Jack is the chance of a life-time,” Crutchie said. “You learn from him, you learn from the best.”

“If he’s the best, then why does he need us?”

“’Cause you got a little brother, and I don’t,” Jack said. “With that plus, we can easily sell a thousand papes a week!” he turned to the kid, then, “Hey, look sad, kid.”

The younger of the brothers immediately pouted, looking adorably sad.

“Oh, we’re gonna make millions!”

“This is my brother, David!” the younger kid exclaimed, “I’m Les!” Jack smiled at the newly named Les.

“Nice to meet ya, Davey; my two bits come off the top, and we’ll split everything else 70-30,” Jack said. Skye grinned; that was the same deal he tried to do with her when she first started selling, until Albert taught her how instead.

“50-50! You wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on a little kid!” Les exclaimed.

Jack turned back to him, an unbelieving look on his face. “60-40,” the Manhattan leader said, “And that is my final offer.”

Looking back at his older brother, Les gave Davey a questioning look. Davey shrugged at him, and Les turned back to Jack. “Deal!” they spit-shook, much to Davey’s displeasure.

“That’s disgusting.”

“That’s just business,” Jack answered. Louder, he said, “Newsies! Hit the streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks, and this kid ain’t getting any younger!”

That was the dismissal the rest of them were waiting for; getting up, Skye and Albert headed towards the Brooklyn bridge, Race following them. Since the two of them liked to sell next the bridge, they had started walking Race there, since Jack still didn’t want anyone alone until the Trolley Strike finished.

The next morning, the Newsies met up at the distribution center, all rather tired. It was understandable, as the day before had been a slow day, and most of them hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep due to sirens.

Skye sat on her normal crate, leaning against Albert, who sat next to her. She was dozing against his shoulder, but the bell going off roused her and she lifted her head tiredly.

“Awe, them fire sirens kept me awake all night,” Race complained, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

“Sirens is like lullabies to me,” a boy named Mush said. “The louder they wail, the better the headline! And the better the headline the better I eat! And the better I eat…”

“The further away from you, I sleep!” Race interrupted, before sticking his cigar into his mouth. He never actually lit them, using them more just to chew on, and give his mouth something to do.

“Mornin’ everybody!” Davey exclaimed as he ran into Newsy Square, pulling Les by his hand. “Sorry we’re late, we had to help our mom with somethin’.”

“Oh, they got a mother?” Race said, “I was gonna get me one.”

“I’m gonna regret asking, but what did you do with the one you had?” Skye asked, a single eyebrow raised.

“He traded her for a box of cigars!” Buttons answered, a laugh poorly hidden in his voice.

“They was Coronas!”

Skye rolled her eyes at her bestfriend and leaned against Albert again. The redhead put his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder soothingly.

“We got a father, too,” Les announced.

“Oh, a mother AND a father!” Buttons exclaimed.

“Well, ain’t we the hoi polloi?”

“So, how’s it goin’ today?” Les asked, not knowing that the headline wasn’t yet up.

“Ask me, after they put up the headline,” Romeo said, a younger boy who got his name from flirting with pretty much anything that moved. It was Skye who gave him the nickname, after a Shakespeare character when he unsuccessfully tried to flirt with her.

Albert stood suddenly, enough to jostle Skye and get her standing, as well.

“New Newsy Price?” Albert read, as if not believing what he read. “60 Cents Per Hundred?”

“Is that news?”

“It is to me!”

“We can’t afford that!” Skye was outraged, and rightly so. She probably could afford it, as her grandfather gave her money for papers every day, although she was always telling him that he didn’t need to. It never stopped him. But almost none of the others would be able to.

“They jacked up the price of papes! 10 cents more a hundred!” Albert’s second exclamation didn’t seem to help matters, at all.

“I could eat two days on a dime!” Finch complained, throwing a hand up in exasperation.

“I’ll be sleeping on the streets!”

JoJo sidled up to Crutchie, and raised his eyebrows at the shorter newsboy, “You already sleep in the streets.”

Crutchie looked up at him, “In a worse neighborhood.”

“Right,” JoJo rolled his eyes; as if Jack would ever let Crutchie sleep in a worse neighborhood. As if SKYE would allow that!

“Hey, what’re you all standing around for?” the group turned and found Jack walking towards them, unaware of the new hike in prices.

“Hey Jack, get a load of this,” Crutchie said as Jack came to stand by him.

“Like Pulitzer don’t make enough, already!” Romeo exclaimed.

“Papes for the newsies! Line up!” Wiesel suddenly shouted, and Jack grinned.

“Hey, relax, it’s gotta be a gag!” Jack went straight to the counter as everyone lined up behind him, Race and Crutchie watching nervously as everyone else pretty much gathered in a huge group. “Nice joke, Weasel, you really had the fellas going! I’ll take a hundred, be on my way.” He placed his two quarters on the counter and waited.

“Hundred’ll cost ya sixty,” Wiesel grinned, a too smug look on his face that Skye didn’t really like the look of.

“I ain’t payin’ no sixty,” Jack said.

“Then make way for someone who will!”

Jack suddenly snatched his money off the counter, “You bet, me and the fellas will take a hike over to the Journal!” he said, and started to stalk off, only to get interrupted by Specs running into the distribution center.

“I’ll save ya the walk; they upped their prices too!”

“Then we’ll take our business to The Sun!” Jack exclaimed, turning to go the other way, but Wiesel stopped him.

“Same all around town! New day, new price,” Wiesel smugly said.

“Hey, why the jack up?!” Jack demanded, anger coming over him, and protectiveness. His boys wouldn’t be able to eat with this new price, wouldn’t be able to stay in the lodging house anymore with this price, not for very long. He knew that Skye would do what she could to help, but she could only help for so long before she, too, ran out of money.

“For those answers, you’ll have to ask higher up the food chain,” Wiesel said, “So you buyin’ or movin’ along?”

Jack glared at him, and then stalked over to some crates, one of the wagons parked behind them.

“C’mere, fellas, c’mere!” he sat on a crate as the others crowded around him, a few jumping up onto the wagon.

“They can’t just do that, can they?” Skye asked, nervously playing with some of her hair.

“Why not?” Race asked, “It’s their World.”

“It’s their paper,” Crutchie continued.

“We ain’t got no rights,” Finch finished. Skye sighed, and felt Albert’s hand land lightly on her shoulder. She looked up at him gratefully, ignoring the way her heart sped up.

“We got the right to starve!” Crutchie exclaimed, “Let’s just get our papes and hit the street while we still can!”

“At them prices?” Henry asked, on Skye’s other side.

“We may not have a choice,” Skye said, glancing around at her boys.

“Hold on!” Jack exclaimed, “No one’s paying no new nothing!”

“You got an idea?” Finch asked.

“Just keep your shirt on, let me think this through!” Jack exclaimed.

“Well, what’s your angle?” Buttons asked, taking a step forward.

“Stop crowding him!” Les exclaimed, running towards Buttons and making him, Race, and all the other boys to Jack’s right back off. “Let the man work it out!” He went to Jack’s left this time, making the boys there take several steps back, and Skye jumped up onto the wagon next to Albert to escape the little boy.

After a few moments of silence, Les spoke up again, “Hey Jack, you still thinkin’?”

“Sure he is,” Race said, and then his lips turned up for a moment, and he began to fan his hand in front of his face, “Can’t ya smell smoke?”

Jack looked up and sent a quick glare to his second in command before bringing everyone in, “Alright here’s the deal; if we don’t sell papes, no one sells papes. No one gets them out there until when they put the price back where it belongs!”

“You mean like a strike?” Davey seemed to regret the question as soon as he asked it.

“Hey, you heard Davey, we’re on strike!” Everyone began to talk excitedly at that, but Davey quickly shut them down.

“Hold on, I didn’t say-!”

“We shut down this place, just like the trolleys were shut down because of the workers!” Jack interrupted.

“Yeah, then the cops’ll bust our heads!” Finch exclaimed, “Half them strikers is laid up with broke bones!”

“The cops ain’t gonna care about a bunch of kids! Right Davey?”

“Me?!” Davey sounded outraged, “Leave me out of this! I’m just here tryin’ to feed my family!”

“What, and the rest of us is on playtime?!” Jack demanded, getting into Davey’s face, “Just because we only make pennies doesn’t give ‘em the right to rub our noses in it!”

“I know, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t strike; you’re not a union,” Davey said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What if I says we is?” Jack asked, completely serious.

“There’s a lotta stuff you gotta have in order to be a union,” Davey said, “Like membership.”

Jack pointed to his friends, “What do you call these guys?”

Everyone waved, a few boys whistling and a few others saying, “hi!”

“What about a statement of purpose?”

“I musta left that in my other pants!”

Race jumped up onto the crates, shyly asking, “What’s a statement of purpose?”

“Race, it’s a reason for forming the union,” Skye answered, “The trolley workers’ reasons were stuff like wages, work hours, safety on the job, stuff like that.”

“Who don’t need that?!” Jack agreed, before turning back to Davey, “Hey, I bet if your father had a union, you wouldn’t need to be out here sellin’ papes right now,” he said.

“Yeah…” Davey was obviously still hesitant as Jack went back to his newsies, to stand in the middle of them on a crate.

“So our union is hereby formed, to watch each other’s backs! Unioned we stand!” Jack exclaimed, “Hey, that’s not bad, someone write that down.”

“I got a pencil!” Les exclaimed, holding one up.

Jack grinned at the young boy and gestured at him, “Well meet our secretary of state!”

Davey was quick to jump back in, “If you want to strike, the membership’s gotta vote!”

“So we’ll vote!” Jack exclaimed, “What do ya say, fellas, the choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or do we strike?”

The answer was a unanimous, “STRIKE!”

Jack grinned, “Yeah, you heard the voice of the membership; the newsies of lower Manhattan are now officially on strike!”

“STRIKE!” the others shouted again.

“Wouldn’t our strike be more effective if someone in charge actually knew about it?” Crutchie asked.

Race grinned over at where Wiesel was standing with his nephews, waiting. “Well, it would be a pleasure to tell Weasel myself!”

“Yeah, and who tells Pulitzer, huh? Davey?” Jack asked, looking over at the nervous new kid.

“I don’t know…” Davey trailed off, until Jack raised an eyebrow at him, “I guess you do, Mr. President!”

Jack grinned, “Yeah, that’s right!” he suddenly became slightly timid, “Now what do we tell ‘em?”

“Well, the newspaper owners need to respect our rights as employees!” Davey said, starting to get more into it.

“Pulitzer and Hearst gotta respect the rights of the workin’ kids in this city!” Jack added.

“Yeah!” Everyone else contributed.

“They can’t just change the rules whenever they feel like it!” Davey said.

“That’s right!” Jack agreed, “We do the work, so we get a say!”

“Yeah!” the newsies were getting pumped up as Jack and Davey continued with their speech of sorts, and Skye felt Albert next to her getting more and more excited, as everyone was.

“Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we’re nothin’!” Jack exclaimed, “Are we nothin’?”

“No!”

“They need to understand that we’re not enslaved to them! We’re free agents!” Davey exclaimed.

“They think they got us! Do they got us?!” just as his newsies were, Jack too was getting very excited and pumped up.

“No!”

Davey let a large grin over-come his face. “We’re a union now! The newsboy union, and we mean business!” he ended the statement with a shout, and it was met with the excited shouts of every one of the newsies present.

“Hey, what’s there stopin’ some other kids from comin’ along to sell our papes?” Finch asked, raising a very good point.

“Awe, just let ‘em try!” Albert exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists. Everyone else seemed to agree, until Davey spoke up again.

“No, no, no! We can’t beat up on other kids! We’re all in this together!” he said.

“Okay, okay,” Jack agreed, before going into deep discussion, mostly with Davey and Crutchie, while everyone else listened intently. Once they had a plan, Jack and Davey together climbed up to where the headline was written every morning. After arguing with the guy, Jack stole the chalk, and then wrote ‘STRIKE’ across it.

“The things we do today will be tomorrow’s news, fellas,” Crutchie said, grinning to everyone around him.

After that, the newsies marched down towards The World main building, and Jack walked in with Davey and Les. The boys all sat around, waiting to see what would happen, while Skye paced impatiently.

“Skye, would ya sit down?” Race called, “They’ll be fine!”

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” Skye mumbled to herself before sitting down next to Albert. The redhead put an around her shoulders, easily pulling her into him. Skye blushed, but let him do it, only to suddenly stand up when the door opened.

A police officer physically threw Jack, Davey, and Les out of the building.

“And stay out!”

Les was the first to recover, “You can tell Pulitzer that a few days into this strike, he’s gonna be beggin’ for an appointment to see me! You got that?!” he exclaimed as the door slammed closer. Turning around, Les was met with the curious stares of all of the newsies, “He got it!”

Stepping forward, Race helped Davey up and Albert held a hand out to Jack, who took it gratefully and allowed himself to be pulled up.

“Alright, fellas, they wouldn’t allow us to talk ta Pulitzer, so we gotta come up with another plan,” Jack said. “Let’s meet up at Jacobi’s, and come up with a new plan.”

“Jacobi’s?” Davey asked, tilting his head to the side.

“This place we go to sometimes for food,” Skye answered, bringing Davey’s attention to her for seemingly the first time. His eyes widened when he realized that she was a girl, and then he looked away when Albert came up behind her and put a hand on the small of her back.

“When wes can afford it,” Albert said, giving Davey what was obviously a look to back off. The two of them weren’t together, but since everyone knew that they had very obvious crushes on each other, no one ever made moves on them, specifically Skye. The only other female newsies out there were Sniper, of Queens, and Smalls, leader of the Bronx, so it wasn’t like very many people were trying to flirt with Albert, anyway, but still. The look he was giving Davey wasn’t a glair, but it was protective, and Dave understood immediately that there was something going on between them, he just didn’t know what.

The group finally reached Jacobi’s and gathered in the dining room. It was midafternoon, and not a lot of people were there, and the newsies filed in and found seats. Mr. Jacobi was a kind, elderly man, who was more than happy to give leftover food to them. They all tried to pay when they could, but Mr. Jacobi was a kind man who didn’t make them pay when it was a literal life or death situation.

A couple of them ordered waters from Mr. Jacobi, and he delivered them just a few minutes later.

“A water for you.. And a water for you, and for you, and you, and uh,” Mr. Jacobi paused, looked around, and asked, “Who’s the big spender who ordered the seltzer?”

“Over here!” Albert said, raising his hand from where he sat on a table next to Skye.

“That’ll be two cents,” Mr. Jacobi said as he walked over.

Albert grunted and sat up, crossing his legs. “Awe, two cents for a glass of seltzer? Just give me a water,” the redhead said.

“How did I ever see that coming?” Mr. Jacobi asked, handing Albert the last glass of regular water on his tray.

“I’ll take the seltzer,” Skye said, handing over two cents to the man. Mr. Jacobi grinned at her and handed over the glass, pretending not to see the young girl hand it over to the redhead beside her and take the water he had gotten in a trade. Those two were going to get married one day; he had money on it.

Once Mr. Jacobi left, it was time to get down to business.

Davey raised his glass of water and grinned, “I say we launched our strike in the most auspicious manner.”

Everyone paused, and Davey’s grin fell in confusion, until Mush spoke up.

“I don’t know about that. But we sure scared the bejeejus outta Weasel!” Mush said, which started everyone cheering.

“And did you see the Delancey’s? They didn’t know which way was up!” Crutchie added.

Jack grinned at his newsies and stood up on the table he had been sitting on. “So, what’s next?” he asked.

“Now we spread the word,” Davey answered. “Let the rest of the city’s newsies know about the strike.”

“You heard the man, let’s go out a spread the word!” Jack ordered. Mush, Race, Jojo, and Buttons all immediately stood up.

“I’ll take Harlem!”

“Oh, I got Midtown!”

“I got the Bronx!”

“And I got the Bowery!”

Jack nodded to the four, and then looked around. “Specs, you take Queens, Tommy Boy, you take the East Side. Uh, Skye, see if you can get to Staten Island; Albert, go with her.” The four newsies Jack called out all nodded, and Skye and Albert shared a look. Staten Island wouldn’t be easy to get to, but they could try to hop on a boat headed over there. “And who wants Brooklyn?”

At that, everyone turned away, avoiding Jack’s gaze. Davey looked around in confusion; even Skye had turned, practically hiding behind Albert, who had turned so he was mostly covering her.

“C’mon, Brooklyn! Spot Conlon’s turf!” Jack said, trying to make the borough sound enticing. “Finch!” Finch stood up on his chair, slingshot in his hand. “You tellin’ me you’re scared of Brooklyn?”

“I ain’t scared of no turf!” Finch exclaimed, and everyone turned back around to look at him with raised eyebrows. “But that Spot Conlon, makes me a little… Jittery.”

“Awe, me and Davey’ll take Brooklyn,” Jack said in exasperation.

“Me?! No!” Davey exclaimed.

“Why is everyone so scared of Brooklyn?” Everyone turned in confusion at the voice to see the girl that Jack had unsuccessfully flirted with the day before walking towards them. She was a pretty strawberry blonde in a pink dress with white sleeves, and a notebook in her hand. Skye glanced down at her own, boyish clothes a little self-consciously, unaware that Albert had noticed. He grabbed her hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, and Skye’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Jack asked.

“Asking a question,” the girl said, “Have you got an answer?”

Jack grinned, “Brooklyn is the sixth largest city in the entire world. You got Brooklyn, you got the motherload. Say, as someone who works for the New York Sun, you’re sure spendin’ an awful lot of time hanging around at the World. What’s that about, huh? You followin’ me?” Jack hid behind Davey, and a chuckle went through the group.

“The only thing I’m following is a story. A rag-tag gang of ragamuffins want to take on the king makers of New York,” the girl walked around the tables, stopping next to Race, who was sitting in a chair at the same table Albert and Skye were sitting on. “Do you think you have a chance?” Race, bless his heart, nodded to her. The girl glanced up, and caught Skye’s eye. There was obvious surprise on her face as she registered that Skye was a female in a male’s clothes, but then she noticed the protective look on Albert’s face and looked back at Jack.

“Shouldn’t you be at the ballet?” Jack asked, eyebrows raised.

“Awe, is the question too difficult? I’ll rephrase,” the girl said, “Will the richest and most powerful men in New York give the time of day to a gang of kids who haven’t got a nickel to their name?” she stopped in front of Crutchie, who had stood up.

“Hey, you don’t gotta be insulting!” he said, “I got a nickel.”

“So I guess you’d say that you’re a bunch of David’s looking to take on a Goliath,” she said, only turning away from Crutchie when Davey spoke.

“We never said that!”

“You didn’t have to; I did,” she responded.

“You know, I’ve read a lot of papes in my day, and I never noted no girl reporters writing hard news,” Jack said. Catching Skye’s glare over the girl’s shoulder, and added, “No offense, Skye.”

“Wake up to the new century!” the girl exclaimed, “The game’s changing. How about an exclusive interview?”

“Ain’t your beat entertainment?” Jack asked.

“Oh, this is entertaining,” the girl said, “So far.”

Jack stepped closer to the girl, “What’s the last news story you wrote?”

The girl got into his face, clearly not bothered by him, “What’s the last strike you organized?”

A series of “oh’s” went around as Romeo stepped up to the girl.

“You’re out of your league, Kelly! Methinks the lady needs to be handled by a…” Romeo pounded his chest twice, “Real man!”

The girl just gave him a blank look, “You thinks wrong, Romeo,” she said, not knowing that Romeo was his actual name. He gave her a surprised look, and went over to Jack.

“Hey Jack, how’d she know my name?”

“Get outta here!” Jack exclaimed, “Sit down!” he pushed Romeo away from them, and Davey stepped up.

“I say we save any exclusive for a real reporter,” he said.

“Do you see anyone else giving you the time of day?!” The girl exclaimed. Her voice got softer as she said, “Okay, so I’m just busting out of the social pages, but you give me the exclusive, let me run the story, and I promise I’ll get you the space.”

“You really think we could be in the papes?” Skye asked, drawing the other girl’s attention to her. She nodded.

“Shut down a paper like The World? You’re gonna make the front page.”

Excited murmurs swept through them, and Albert wound an arm around Skye’s shoulders, bringing her into him while she let out a quiet giggle. The other girl smiled at this; if those two weren’t already together, it would be her goal to GET them together.

“You want a story?” her attention was brought back to Jack, “Be in front of the circulation gate tomorrow morning, and you’ll get one. Oh, and bring a camera; you’ll wanna snap a picture of this!”

Everyone shouted un excitement, only Jacobi re-entering the room calming them.

“Let’s go, everyone! Play outside, I gotta set up for dinner and I gots payin’ customers what need the tables!” the older gentleman said, gently shooing the newsies out of his restaurant. Some of them would come back later, for dinner, but for now, they had important things to do.

“Come on!” Finch exclaimed, “We got newsies to visit!”

“Yeah, you won’t be shooing us off when we our mugs in the pape!” Race exclaimed, happily following his friends out the door.

“Let’s go, Albert!” Skye exclaimed, pulling the redhead behind her, “We gotta get to Staten Island before dark!”

“I’m comin’, Skye! Hold on!” Albert replied, following her easily. They made it to the docks relatively quickly, it was finding a boat that would be hard. Luckily, they managed to find one more easily than they thought they would, and snuck on with little trouble. Once they were on, they found an easy hiding spot, so they could get to Staten Island with no trouble and be able to get off the boat without getting caught.

As the two settled down for the short trip, the watched as rich folks passed by their hiding place, men in nice suits and women in pretty dresses. Albert could see the conflict in Skye’s eyes as she looked at these women. She wanted to wear pretty dresses, but it just wasn’t a logical thing to wear. When selling newspapers, it made sense to wear the most comfortable clothes possibly that was easy to run in. Dresses and skirts weren’t easy to run in, at all. Skye had found that out the hard way.

Albert sighed and put his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. “Ya know you don’t gotta wear pretty dresses,” he said.

“I know,” Skye said, leaning her head against his shoulder, “Sometimes I just wanna be pretty, you know?”

Albert pulled away from her slightly, his eyebrows furrowed, “You don’t think you’re pretty?” Skye shook her head and looked out at the women again.

“Compared to them? There’s no way,” she answered.

Albert laughed, causing Skye to look up at him in confusion. “Skye, I’m pretty sure that you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” His words sent blood rushing to her face, causing a bright red blush. “I saw how yous looked at that girl at Jacobi’s; you’re much prettier than her.”

“No one else seemed to think so,” Skye muttered. Jack, especially, seemed to be enamored by her.

“Then it’s a good thing that none of their opinions about it matter, then!” Albert exclaimed. “I don’t know why yous think you’re not pretty, but yous are. Beautiful, is actually the word I’d use.” If possible, Skye blushed even brighter.

“You’re sweet, Albert,” Skye muttered, leaning up to kiss his cheek before leaning against his shoulder again.

“And you’re beautiful,” he answered, kissing the top of her head before laying his head atop hers.

They didn’t get back to Manhattan until after dark. Greenie, leader of the Staten Island newsies, had sounded interested in the strike, but he didn’t want to send anyone over until he knew what Spot was going to do. Skye and Albert had only sighed and promised to send a birdie over as soon as they got word on what Brooklyn was doing.

Greenie, luckily, had taken pity on the two Manhattaners and led them to a guy who owned a boat and owed Greenie some favors. He mostly payed those favors off by giving newsies rides back to the mainland from Staten Island. The boat they had snuck onto to get there was the Staten Island Ferry, but at least with this guy, they wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking around.

Once they got back, Albert hurried the two back to the lodging house. It wasn’t safe at night, and he didn’t want Skye to get hurt. The two snuck in, and made it past Kloppman. He had stayed up waiting for his granddaughter to get back. Once Albert was in their room, where Race and Specs were already asleep, Skye snuck back to her grandfather and gently woke him up, letting him know that she was home so that he could go to bed. She went to bed shortly after.

The next morning, all of the newsies met up at the gates to the distribution center. They will still locked. Davey paced behind Jack nervously, who was leaning against the gate.

“Is anyone else coming?” Davey finally asked.

“I got no clue,” Jack answered, sounding annoyed.

“Well you seen Spot Conlon, right?” Race asked, “What’d he say?”

“Sure, we seen him,” Jack said.

“Him and about twenty of his gang.” Davey added.

“And them Brooklyn boys is big,” Les finished.

“And I gotta say, Spot was very impressed, wasn’t he?”

“I’d say.”

“So, they’re with us?” Race asked.

“Well. That all depends on how you look at it,” Davey answered, “If you look and see Brooklyn, then they’re with us.”

“He wanted proof that we’re not gonna fold at the first sign of trouble,” Jack said.

“Are we?” Finch asked, nervously twisting his slingshot around his fingers.

“We are not! There’s us, we got Harlem-“ Jack was cut off by Mush.

“Not so fast, boss. Harlem wants to know what Brooklyn’s gonna do.”

“What about Queens?”

“They’ll be right here backin’ us up,” Specs reported, “As soon as they get the nod from Brooklyn.”

“I got the same fish eye in Midtown,” Race reported.

Jack sighed and glanced around, his eyes landing on Skye. “Skye!” he called.

Skye glanced up, and met the leader’s gaze. Coming towards him, she stopped next to Race.

“What did Greenie say?” Jack asked.

Skye sighed, “He sounded interested, but said he didn’t want to get involved until Spot did. Doesn’t want to put his boys through this if he doesn’t have to,” she said.

Jack frowned, but before he could respond, Oscar and Morris showed up to unlock the gate.

“Hey Oscar, looks like it was bum information we got about a strike happening here today!” Morris said, before slapping his fist into his other palm, “Not that I’m complaining; my skull-busting arm could use a day of rest.” They unlocked the gate, and the newsies came through.

Skye sighed, seeing the down-trodden look on Jack’s face. And then those three scabbers showed up, and Jack had to stop the other boys from soaking them. He started a rousing speech with Davey about seizing the day, and it was enough to get everyone all riled up. He managed to convince two of the scabbers to join the strike, and worked on the third for a few minutes, before, finally,

“Awe, what the hell. My father’s gonna kill me anyway!” the boy threw his stack of papes onto the ground, and was met with screams of approval.

Suddenly the Delancey brothers were back, and they tried to make off with Les, but he was quickly rescued. That was when everyone realized that the girl, who Jack had revealed was named Katherine, had showed. She had a man with her, setting up a camera, and the group were quick to pose. Once the picture was snapped, everyone shouted in excitement.

They celebrated, throwing around papers, and then Albert found Skye. He was grinning, as was she, and their eyes met. Cupping her face in his hands, Albert started to lean in, until the celebrating suddenly stopped. Looking up, the two suddenly realized that Snyder, as well as about 20 bulls, were waiting for them.

He rammed his baton against the metal pole beside him twice, and that seemed to be the signal. The bulls rushed forward, intent on capturing each and every newsy, to take them all to the refuge.

“Newsies,” Jack exclaimed, “Let’s get ‘em!” With that, the teens all rushed forward; Jack hadn’t allowed any of the younger kids to participate, since he knew that it was likely to get ugly like this. Les was the only exception; being Davey’s little brother as well as good at bargaining meant that he easily made it to the strike.

Taking a punch to her gut, Skye was quick to recover, sending one of her own punches at the face of a police officer. She continued, even grabbing Les and almost physically throwing him out of Newsies Square. And then she heard it.

“JACK, HELP!” it was Crutchie.

“Crutchie!” Skye exclaimed, and, before anyone could stop her, she was rushing forward. The DeLancey’s had her friend, and she wasn’t about to allow him to go to the refuge. “Let him go!” she punched Oscar in the face, forcing him to let go of Crutchie.

“Crutchie, get out of here!” she exclaimed, sending a punch to Morris, as well. “Race! Get him out of here!” Race rushed forward, grabbing Crutchie, and bodily carried him away.

Crutchie struggled, trying to get to his friend as she fought the DeLancey’s, going down with a strong hit to her jaw.

“Skye! Race, let me go! I gotta help her!” he struggled, trying so hard to get to her.

“She can handle herself, Crutch, I gotta get you outta here!” Race replied, looking around. He met eyes with Albert, and nodded once towards where Skye was. Albert nodded back, and disappeared back into the fray.

The DeLancey brothers quickly overpowered her, and Snyder sneered as he came up to her. “Take her away, boys,” he said, sending his foot into her stomach. Skye cried out, which caught Albert’s attention. He had been headed her way, but hearing her scream made him quicken his pace.

He caught site of her just as Morris tossed her into the back of a waiting carriage. The cage door on the back closed, locking her in. Everyone knew where that carriage went.

“Skye!” Albert called, “Skye! ELISE!” Skye heard him, and dragged herself to the cage door, looking out at him with big blue eyes. “I’ll get you outta there, Skye! I will!” Albert called, chasing after the carriage as it moved towards the refuge. It finally got too far for him to keep chasing it, and he stopped, Race and Specs both coming up behind him.

All three boys were breathing heavily, with various injuries. Race had a forming black eye. Specs was limping, and Albert was bleeding from his bicep.

“We’ll get her back, Albert,” Race said, putting his hand on Albert’s shoulder. Albert nodded.

“Kloppman’s gonna kill us.”

That night, Albert snuck to the refuge, climbing a fire escape to reach a window. The first window he went to was the wrong one, but they directed him to two windows away, where apparently a girl with sky blue eyes and long black hair had been taken. He reached it and looked in, gaining the attention of one of the boys in the room.

“What’re you’s doing here, want to get thrown in here, too?!” the boy exclaimed.

“Calm down, I’m just lookin’ for my girl, she got tossed in heah earlia,” Albert said, “Long black hair, blue eyes, answers to Skye?”

The boy glanced behind him, and nodded, “Yeah, she’s heah,” he said, disappearing from the barred window. Moments later, Skye appeared. She was battered up, a bruise forming on her jaw, she was holding her stomach.

“Albert, what are you doing here?” she stood on the bed that was directly under the window, coming face-to-face with him through the bars. “Get outta here, I don’t want ya getting caught, too!”

“I needed to see that you were okay,” he said, taking her hand through the bars. “We’re working on gettin’ you’s outta there.”

Skye nodded, “Is Crutchie okay? I made Race get him outta there; he wouldn’t do as well in here.”

“And you will?” Albert questioned. When Skye just gave him a look, he sighed. “He’s fine. Feelin’ guilty that you took his place, but he’s alright. Little bruised up, though. Jack feels guilty as hell, too,” he reported.

Sky sighed. “Tell Crutchie that I’d gladly take his place in here. As for Jack… Tell Jack that he needs to finish this strike, that I’ll kick his butt if he gives it up.”

Albert laughed a little, “I’ll tell him,” he paused, “Kloppman’s furious. He’s saying that because he’s your legal guardian, he should be able to get you outta heah, but Snyder and Pulitzer won’t let him. Says that because you’s were a part of tha strike, Snyder had every right ta arrest ya.”

“Pulitzer and Snyder can shove it where the sun don’t shine. Tell Grandpa that I love him, I’ll see him soon,” she said. Albert nodded, and his grip on her hand tightened.

“I’ll tell them,” he promised.

Skye smiled at him, a beautiful smile even with all the bruising and dirt. Albert so wished he could hold her, just to feel more than just her hand in his.

“At the strike, were you going to kiss me?”

The question was a surprise; Albert certainly hadn’t expected to hear it, and she hadn’t really been expecting to ask it. But still, Albert answered her.

“I… Yeah. I was. I really like you, and I’m told that you really like me. Thought I’d give it a shot; but then Snyder showed up, and…” he gestured with his free hand to the building, the one he was out of while she was trapped inside.

Skye blushed, although it was kind of hard to see through the dirt streaked across her cheeks. “I do like you, a lot, Albert.”

“You do?” his eyes lit up, the brown irises sparkling as her looked at her.

“Yeah.” She giggled. “Ever since that game of Truth of Dare, when we were 12? Race dared me to kiss you on the lips.”

“And I told ya that ya didn’t have ta kiss me if ya didn’t want ta,” Albert remembered.

“But I did it anyways,” Skye finished. “Pretty sure I fell for ya right then and there.”

“Well then, once I get you outta heah, then I say we give this a shot, yeah?”

Skye nodded, and then suddenly looked over her shoulder. She swung back around to Albert, eyes wide with fear, “Someone’s coming! Get outta here!”

Albert nodded, bringing her hand, still clasped tightly in his, to his mouth, and kissed the back of her hand. “I’ll get you outta heah, Skye, I promise.”

Skye nodded, eyes filling with tears. “I’ll hold ya to it,” she said. He gave one last, lingering kiss to the back of her hand, and let go, disappearing back down the fire escape. Skye’s hand felt cold without his, but she was quick to push it out of her mind; if it was Snyder, and he caught her at the window, who knows what he might do to her.

It was indeed Snyder when the door was opened, and he grinned maliciously when he saw Skye. Coming forward, he grabbed the back of her shirt, and wasn’t gentle at all as he pulled her out of the room, Skye screaming the entire time. Albert ran back to the window when he heard her screams, and was just in time to see her get pulled through the door. She tried to latch onto it, but Snyder was stronger. Albert met her eyes just as she disappeared.

Albert tried to come back the next night, make sure she was okay, but she couldn’t even come to the window to see him.

“What do ya mean she can’t come see me?” Albert demanded, his eyes wide as he looked past the boy and tried to find where she was.

“Snyder… Did something, ta her. She won’t talk about it.” The boy said this nervously, like he was afraid that Albert would kill the messenger. This was his girl, they were talking about here, and she was seriously injured, and he couldn’t even see her. “I think she wrote some notes for ya, though, hang on.”

The boy disappeared, and Albert stood there on that fire escape thinking about everything that Snyder could have done to her. He could have beat her, tortured her… Raped her. Albert didn’t like the sound of any of them. The boy reappeared, and this time he had three folded pieces of paper in his hand. “here ya go,” he said.

He handed the papers through the gaps in the bars, and Albert took them gratefully. Each one had a name written on them; Grandpa, Crutchie, and his own. Stuffing them into a pocket, Albert thanked him, told him to tell Skye that he loved her and would be getting her out of there as soon as he could, and then he left.

It wasn’t until he got to the lodge that Albert took out of the letters. Kloppman had been teary-eyed when he was given his, as was Crutchie. He went and sat on his bunk before opening his own.

Albert didn’t know if he wanted to know where she got paper from in the Refuge. It wasn’t old newspapers, but it also wasn’t brand new paper. The pencil marks were dark against faded paper.

Albert,

I don’t really know what else to say except that what you saw last night was horrible. Snyder really does not care for us at all, just his money and his own sick sense of pleasure. I’m sorry that I’m tainted now. You could do so much better than me. I’ll understand if you stop liking me for this; you wouldn’t be the only one.

But enough about that. You guys need to finish the strike. Make sure that Pulitzer knows that raising the prices was the worst thing he could have done to us. It’s unfair to us, and I don’t even want to know how long some of you are going to go without food. Lord knows I haven’t been fed yet, and it’s been nearly 24 hours. Some of these kids have been here for years; they tell me that they only get fed once every couple of days, but if you’re too injured to get out of bed, like I am, then it’s even less. I don’t understand how the government can allow this to happen.

I miss you, Albert. So much. I miss your hugs, I miss your smile, I even miss that red hair that you hate so much. I would give anything just to run my hands through it right now. I will never understand why you hate it so much. But I love it. I love you.

Stay strong, Albert. For me.

Love,  
Your Skye

Albert didn’t realize that a few tears had escaped his eyes while he was reading until one hit the paper. With a sigh, he wiped at his face, removing his hat for a moment to run his fingers through his hair.

So it was confirmed; Snyder had raped her. He had raped Albert’s girl, the love of his life. He didn’t love her any less, though. No, he still loved her fiercely and if he hadn’t already been so dead-set on getting her out of that place, he was even more sure of it now. And he added a punch to Snyder’s pointy little nose to his list of things that he needed to do.

Albert didn’t want to think about Snyder was doing to her, but it stayed with him until the moment that Jack finally came out of Pulitzer’s office. Davey and Spot had both already exited, and joined them. Albert rung his hands nervously around the handle of the sign he was holding, waiting to hear what Jack would say.

“Newsies of New York!” he paused, for dramatic effect, Albert assumed, and then, “WE WON!”

The block broke out into cheers, and then none other than one Theodore Roosevelt stepped up to speak, speaking for them, and praising their efforts to be treated more fairly. While Albert was happy about these events, he still didn’t have Skye back, and was fully prepared to go with a plan he had come up with bust her out, when Roosevelt spoke up again.

“And I believe your girl would like be a part of all of this, as well!” A hush came over the group, and then they heard it.

“Hi, everyone!”

It was Skye! Everyone gave her hugs as she passed, and when she reached Crutchie, Albert could see that the blond was nearly in tears. She had gone to the refuge for him. Had been beaten- if the bruises covering her face and arms were any indication- and raped, for him. Albert had told everyone what he saw when he got back to the lodging house the night he had gone to see her. By the way she was limping, her leg was still hurting her.

Skye gave Crutchie a long hug, and when she released him, he was smiling broadly at her. Albert didn’t hear what Crutchie then said to her, but her head swiveled around, and she met his gaze, blue meeting brown. She smiled brightly at him, and then was coming towards him.

Once Skye reached Albert, he didn’t hesitate. Just like at the strike, Albert cupped her face in his hands, and leaned down. This time, though, he kissed her. And it was amazing. There were sparks, there was that feeling of it just being… Right. Neither paid much attention to the hoots and hollers coming from the boys around them, too engrossed in each other to really care. When they finally separated, Albert smiled at her.

“Be my girl?” he asked.

Skye smiled at him, “Yes.” Albert smiled back, and brought her into a hug, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He didn’t care that she smelled- he did too, and, honestly, she still smelled better than him- he didn’t care that someone had stolen her innocence, he didn’t care that Jack had momentarily given up on the strike. He had Skye back, and that was all that mattered, and she was his. His, and only his. She suddenly pulled away from him.

“OH! And I have a little present! Straight from the Refuge!” Skye exclaimed. Two police officers came out, and they had Snyder, Warden of the Refuge, between them.

“It’s Snyder the Spider!” Race grinned, coming up behind his two friends.

“Ain’t looking so tough no more!” Finch made like he was going to jump on Snyder, who tried to kick him away. Finch dodged easily.

Roosevelt turned to Jack, “With those drawings, you made an eloquent argument about shutting down the Refuge. Mr. Snyder’s abuses will be fully investigated. Officers, take him away!”

The police officers carried him away in handcuffs, and Skye turned to Albert, a large grin on her face. They had done it! The Refuge was closed, they had won their strike, and Albert finally had Skye back; his girl.

“Thank you, Govanah!” Jack exclaimed, finally joining his newsies from where he had been standing next to the governor.

Roosevelt then turned, but then Pulitzer spoke up. Suddenly he was offering Jack a job at the World, but not as a newsy. No, he was being offered a job as a political cartoonist. The perfect job for Jack, really, who loved art almost as much as he loved Santa Fe. Skye honestly stopped paying attention, too wrapped up in the fact that Albert had read her letter, and he still wanted her. He had kissed her, asked her to be his girl. And she had said yes. With a happy grin, Skye hugged him, relishing the familiar feeling of his arms around her.

“Did I not hear something about this strike being over?!” Pulitzer shouted.

“Papes for the newsies! These papes won’t sell themselves” Wiesel called almost immediately.

“Shall we get in line?” Albert asked with a crooked grin.

Skye smiled back, “I don’t have any money,” she answered.

“Awe, don’t worry ‘bout it, I’ll get ya papes,” Albert said, slinging his arm around her and leading her to the line, “’S my job to take care of ya, now.”

Skye giggled, but let him buy her, her papers. She could get used to this.

A sudden call of “Guys!” called their attention, though, and both looked up to see Jack kissing Katherine. Pretty much all of them started cheering. Albert leaned in closer to his girl, kissing the side of her head for a moment as Jack and Kathrine separated, grins on both of their faces.

“Well Jack? Are you in or are you out?” David asked.

“I was busy, here!” Jack complained, but he kept a grin on his face as he walked over to the familiar counter and slapped two quarters onto it to buy his papers. Everyone cheered again.

All was finally okay again.


End file.
